Sparking Embers
by Insert a Catchy Penname Here
Summary: My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am the Victor of the 74th Annual Hunger Games, and I have managed to continue keeping my family alive. My best friend Gale Hawthorne is at risk and so is my little sister, Prim. President Snow knows what I'm capable of, and he is going to kill me. My fellow Victors are our only hope.
1. A Lone Victor

Wounded Angel 1

_**Author Note**_: This story is a request from RockGuitarGoddess This is my version of what would have happened if Katniss was the lone Victor of the 74th Annual Hunger Games, and how it would affected the rest of the trilogy. Please read and review, and enjoy!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX **

_Carefully, I put the tips of my boots on the outside of the cave. The forest looms in the distance, giving promise to the supplies Peeta and I both desperately needed in order to survive. Something other than my first instinct tells me to stay inside of the cave, to protect him when he has no possible way of defending himself against the Careers if they found our hideout, especially when they're targeting us. But my first instinct overrules that feeling, simply because if I stay with him, we'll both die. _

_I move on hunter's feet through the thickening underbrush until the area where the Cornocopia is located is in view, then crouch lowly. All eyes are searching around, cautious to dare venturing out; those who are left are all desperate to win. A few leaves tremble before Foxface emerges, dashing quickly and lightly to the area where the promising bags are set up. In one quick motion, she's grabbed the pack with a __**5**__ pinned to the front and re-hidden herself back in the woods. _

_Even though she moved remarkably fast, nothing stirred from the underbrush, which can only mean the Careers aren't here. _

_Taking a deep, silent breath, I begin to inch out into the clearing. There will be no protection other than my bow and what few arrows I've got left once I'm out, which means I will have to fight for my life if I'm attacked. By the looks of it, only Clove, Cato, Foxface, and Thresh are remaining, but there's no doubt all of them want to kill Peeta and I. _

_I'm their biggest target and threat, though, which means my odds of winning decreased rapidly, even without me stepping into open-range. _

_Nothing moves or rustles as I continue inching forward; it's now or never. I make a blind lunge toward the bag with a 1__**2 **__on the front, slinging the bow more securely across my back as I run. It seems like the world freezes as I grab one strap, yanking the supplies into my grasp and spinning on my heels, bolting away. My heart hammers furiously as I finally slow down once back in the underbrush, both hands clutching the bag as if I'd never let go. _

"_Thank God…" my voice is a ragged whisper as I begin opening it up, the rest of the world fading for a seemingly pleasant moment in time. _

_**BOOM!**_

_My hand freezes from where I was beginning to pull out the first supply for inspection. My vision clouds instantly as my heart hits the base of my stomach; I rapidly stuff whatever I was pulling out back inside the pack and take off in the direction I can, not minding the noise I'm making. As I burst into the area, my hand gripping my bow until my knuckles are white, I know immediately I'm too late. _

_Clove is pulling a blood-soaked knife from a lifeless corpse she dragged out of the cave we'd taken shelter in before, grinning madly as Cato turns in my direction. Both of them look pleased at their handiwork, the look in both of their eyes taunting me with the fact that I was supposed to be their next kill._

_Having no other choice, I take off in the opposite direction. _

_As I run away as fast as my body will allow in my condition, all I can picture is his face when he threw the burnt bread out to me. He'd saved my life once, and I wasn't able to return the favor at all. Because I'd abandoned him when he needed me, he'd lost his life. There are footsteps thundering behind me, but I block them out with the piercing, hounding pain of adrenaline cutting through my heart and head. Peeta's own mother claimed that I would be District Twelve's first winner in over twenty years, and as much as I was resenting it now, I knew that I had no choice but to win now. _

_Not only for Prim, but for Peeta's sake. _

_**XXXXXXXXX**_

_I'm lying stomach-down between two grooves of a couple of trees just outside of the Cornocopia's clearing. Clove and Cato have been victorious over Thresh, even though I'd heard them talking about how it wasn't very easy, even when their combined strength. He was Rue's District partner; I'll be avenging him as well. The Capital people will be impatient at this point, which means the last battle in pending. Subconsciously, I wonder if Foxface realizes this as well while I pull out one of my precious arrows, notching it carefully on the taunt string of my bow. I've been laying here nearly all day, waiting for the moment when they realize they'll have to refill their water supply sooner or later. _

_Sure enough, Clove looks to Cato just as I'm finishing notching my weapon, "We have to drink something before dehydration sets in, you know." _

"_Did you notice any streams nearby?" he asks in response, looking over from where he was polishing off his sword with the back of his hand. Blood clots unpluck themselves from the metal, falling into the grass, which seems to satisfy his sick, inhuman hunger for the kill. _

"_No," she rises anyway, two knifes in each hand, "I'll start looking; don't let District Five or Twelve get away." _

"_I'm not," the tightness in his voice tells me clearly he'll be turning on her after at least the next kill, and that he wants to cut her throat even sooner. _

_If she does, though, she ignores it as she heads in the opposite direction. Silently, I begin a countdown from ten mentally, slowly sitting up with each number until I'm at five, the string pulled back already. _

5.

_Cato has finished cleaning his sword and is now getting back to his feet, searching the trees for any sign of movement. _

4.

_Subtly, I move the tip of my arrow, setting it to aim directly at his temple. _

3.

_His eyes suddenly fall to the tree he seemed to have overlooked as my fingers stiffen from holding back the very thing that can kill him. _

2.

_When his eyes find me, they immediately lock on mine; they're brown and full of instant rage. _

1

_My hesitation ends as soon as the arrow cuts through the hair with a __**zip**__. He opens his mouth, as if to scream, just as the tip is embedding itself in his skull, the momentum almost knocking him over as it pierced through the skin and bone. The cannon echoes just as I'm jumping down from where I'd perched, hitting the ground feet-first. I'm on the move again, pulling out another arrow and fumbling to notch it just as Clove returns to the clearing, eyes wide and face twisted into hate. _

_Our eyes lock for a brief second before she's charging at me, arm hurling a knife in my direction. I'm her target, and she hasn't missed her target this entire Game. _

_But neither have I. _

_Just as the blade is piercing into my abdomen, the arrow is piercing through her hair. Gritting my teeth in agony, a shooting pain bursting through my nerves and almost blinding me, I feel my form hitting the ground. The thump my weight makes is lightweight; my immune system won't be able to keep me alive now. My world goes dark as two cannon echo in the distance, a voice crackling to live to announce my apparently victory. _

_I slip away before I can hear it. _

**XXXXXXXXX**

Blobs of yellows, dark purples, and dark green cloud my vision. My hands reach up instinctively to cover my face from the muffled voices that appear to be trapped in the back of my mind, a couple of my fingers fumbling for something to hold. They find a soft, smooth hand with a pulse; I jerk away, rolling to my side and covering my head. I feel exposed in more ways than one; I'm naked and laying on something cold and hard. Light struggles to pierce my eyes through my clamped lids as the voices come more into focus, still not making any sense but at a louder volume.

"_Katniss_."

Prim's voice whispers in my air; I reach to wrap my arms around her and find at set of broader, more masculine shoulders. A scream emits itself from my throat as I bolt to sit up, eyes still shut as my being swerved. Several pairs of hands grab me from each side, causing more screaming to free itself from my chest. I'm covering with my folded, shut legs covering my chest, my face lowering into my knees. Tears are streaming from my eyelids as I just keep screaming, my throat becoming raw and my muscles aching from being bent so long.

A rough, firm hand suddenly finds my shoulder, making tense before I hear his voice; it's the only voice I want to hear for now.

"Congratulations, sweetheart."


	2. Visitors

Sparking Embers 2

I'm lying motionless on my bed, waiting for the visitors that are supposed to arriving soon.

I haven't done much in the last few weeks, just going through the motions: Wake up, eat, sleep, wake up, eat, sleep, with bathroom breaks in between. The first two weeks my sleep was forced by drugs and constant while the Capitalites replenished my being, making my skin near flawless again and bringing back a plastic shine in my expressions. Everything I am now on the outside fake, and everything inside is hollow. I did what I'd set out to do from the beginning- I won the 74th Annual Hunger Games.

But Peeta died along the way.

He saved my life once, and I couldn't do the same for him. It breaks my heart, even if our love was merely a fake charade to keep us both alive than we probably would have been otherwise. I'm grateful that he at least made to the final eight and six- he deserved to win. But now I am the Victor, and I did for both his and Prim's sakes. Everyone is sure to be talking about what a pride I am to District Twelve; most of them won't go hungry for one precious year now. Even if it'll be back to same old pain and misery after that, at least they can be happy for a little while.

I, on the other hand, refuse to believe I ever will be again.

My eyes wander over to Haymitch, "It's four o' clock."

He snorts while sipping out of his beer-filled canteen, "You think I'm worried about the time, sweetheart?"

"You said that they'd be coming by four o' clock."

"Well, it looks like their missing their appointment, now doesn't it?"

The door clicks open. My expectant gaze finds just the person I've ached to see instantly, her blonde hair in their usual two prides and her small, watery smile the best thing I've seen since Peeta's last smile. She surges forward despite the un patience nurse's urging, and I throw my arms up to let her crash into me fully. She sobs into my chest happily as I bring my hands back down, gently tugging free her braids and stroking her blonde waves affectionately.

"Shhh, Little Duck," I whisper, "it's okay now, it's all okay..."

After a few precious minutes, she peeks up at me with wide, blue eyes, "Katniss, you won. You really won."

I secure my arms around her again, "Yes, I did. And I'm not ever going anywhere again, alright? You and Mom and I are going to be just fine."

She rehides her face in my chest, her body relieved as I glance up at our mother. She is standing there solemnly, her face a tight mask of withheld emotions. The last time I saw her so solemn was when Dad died, standing there in the cold night as she tried to make up her mind to react. I merely continue holding my little sister as she slowly comes out of her shock and Haymitch continues to drunken himself again. After a few more minutes, she finally seems to decide by the tears sliding down her weathered cheeks.

"You made it," she whispered, coming to me and wrapping her arms around both of us."

The nurse scowls as I hold my remaining family. In my imagination, I envision my father comes forward and wrapping us all up securely, just like he used to when we were all younger and healthier. It was a better time for all of us, a time where happiness was still existent. Now it's a warmer memory as Mother finally pulls away, her pale blonde hair sticking in wisps to the front of her drenched face.

"Things are going to be alright now," she manages in a small, unsteady voice.

I nod solemnly once and tell her evenly, "Life will be better."

Prim peeks up again and mutters, "Can you smile for me?"

_Can you sing for me? _

Rue's final request echoes in my head as I begin to stroke my sister's back. Both of them, so young and pure, trapped in this cruel world with only one still caught in the tangle. I can only pray _she _went to a better place, a deep meadow hidden far in a perfect place. The thought brings a slight upturn to my lips, and Prim seems to understand that's all she can really ask of me now.

Haymitch watches as they both bury their faces into me. Once again, I am the strong one of the family. I am their support, and their source of comfort and life.

I'm not sure how to feel about that anymore.

* * *

Two more weeks ease past before I am able to return 'home'.

The Victor house is more than fabulous. The pantries are fully stocked with foreign treats, and things that are meant to be cold are stored away in a large container. Everything is polished and new, and every closet is full of clothes to live in 'style'. Mom and Prim are unsure how to react, of course other than to fully enjoy it all. I'm not sure how to react myself, so I sleep curled up in a small ball on the couch. Haymitch promised me before we unboarded the train that he would pay me a visit, and I long for the day already, especially in my dreams.

When I wake up, I am no longer alone.

Gale is sitting on the cushion right beside me, his face solemn as I slowly return to reality. His eyes are joy-filled on the other hand as he wraps his arms around me, taking me into his warm, familiar embrace. My fingers curl around the fabric of his shirt, my nose taking in the scent of the runt on his clothes and deep within his skin. He is one that has never changed, one that I can rely on completely and let myself go into.

So I cry.

* * *

When I truly accept reality again, Haymitch is paying his first 'weekly visit'.

Neither of us are much for talking, so we simply sit side by side on the couch. Prim is sitting nearby, popping chocolates into her mouth curiously and delightedly while Mom watches us from the doorway. Gale is sitting beside Prim, one hand braced on his knee as the other resting on my sister's back as his eyes remain trained on us.

"How will I get past the victory tour?" I ask him hollowly.

He looked at me, not with remorse, but with something I can only describe as pity. "You just keep smiling, tell them what they want to hear. But it doesn't end with the Victory Tour stopping."

It occurs to be that, by that time, it'll be time for the next Hunger Games. I will have to mentor two children who will more than likely die in the bloodbath. It will not end, and I will not escape the Capital even if I managed away from the arena. We look eyes briefly and he must know exactly how I feel. I'll be in this past his death, and there might not be another left alive after I'm gone.

_A vicious cycle of watching children die. _

Haymitch's drinking makes more sense to me at that point. It occurs to me that death would've been the easy way out for myself; at least I'd have a chance at somewhere better sooner.

_Because only death numbs the pain. _


	3. The Victory Tour

Sparking Embers 3

Cinna gently places the Victor's crown on my head, adjusting it slightly to compliment my usual braid.

"I don't want to go out there," I tell him quietly, though what I want will no longer make a difference. I am a piece of the Capital now, just another player of their Games, the perfect image of what Peeta never wanted to be.

"I know," he responds gently, "don't worry, Katniss. You just have to get through this Victory Tour, and everything else should be easier."

"How would you know?" I ask, my eyes studying the thick leather around my feet, "you'll never have to go into the Games and you won't have to mentor those kids."

"I won't..." he admits, then presses his forehead to mine gently. We stand there like we did just before I had to go into the lifting tube, quietly comforting each other just by our presence. "But I am going to have to make them look beautiful before their deaths."

"And I'll have to try to keep them alive," I finish in an almost inaudible volume.

Someone clears their throat, bringing my attention to the District One mayor. He's dressed up in black for his occasion, his face grim and full of suppressed hate toward me. I stare into his cold eyes briefly, stepping forward in my vibrant yellow dress that flows outward in ruffles. I look golden, the pure image of a Victor with a smile that's only a mask. This is how it will go for the next eleven Districts- fake smiles, fancy clothes, suppressed loathing on both sides. No matter I did or did not, all of these people will see me as the girl who murdered their children.

I can only see them as the parents who want to murder me.

As I recite a speech about what an honor it was to serve the Capital and to be with Glimmer and Marvel, I keep my gaze set on Cinna and Haymitch. They are the only ones who really matters to me now- they are practically all I have left. Mother and Prim will never have to endure the horrors of the arena, and they will not go through what I am right now. It is what I wanted from the moment I volunteered, of course, but the pain it brings is mind numbing and enough to make me want to scream endlessly.

Of course I can't. I need to finish this speech without running.

* * *

"Greetings, District Eleven," I begin solemnly. This entire tour has been torture, filled with faces with no meaning, until now.

This was Rue's District.

Now I am focused on the families sitting in the front row, all of them watching and listening to the words I'm pulling off of another memorized sheet of paper. There are five young children huddling around two teary eyed adults, all of them looking quite solemn and heartbroken. They are bone thin, hardly better than Rue was. They all resemble some part of her, proving they were the family she left behind- the same eyes, the same nose, they same raised body stature. The youngest one is staring at me intently, her big brown eyes that I swear are Rue's expectant.

I falter in my pre-written speech when she raises up three fingers toward me.

The valency of both of their tributes. That's what I'm supposed to talk about next.

"The thing I remember about my Games," I say slowly, keeping my gaze locked with her own, "is Rue. I see her in woods around my District, in the mockingjays that sing within them. I see her in the flowers blooming outside of my new home, in the smiles of everyone I see, and hear her words every night in my dreams. But most of all, I see her in my little sister. She didn't deserve to die how she did...and neither did Thresh, or Peeta, or anybody. They will only remain in our dreams now, just as she remains in mine."

The only sound comes from the last echoes of my unplanned speech. I am aware the that move is not going to amuse the Capitalites at all- particularly President Snow- but if they kill me, it will be out of mercy. As I slowly drift my gaze away from the little girl, District Eleven does something as incredible as when District Twelve did it. Pressing three fingers to their lips, they slowly raise them in the air as I attempt to hold my composure.

"Thank you for your time," I say quietly, turning away from their respect and exiting the stage, directly into Haymitch's arms.

He whispers in my ear, "Nice job, sweetheart."

* * *

"Katniss Everdeen."

The woman in front of me is unfamiliar at first, but as I peel back my memories and she approaches, it occurs to me just who she is. Her dark skin, stern bun, and fire-filled eyes flash in my thoughts as she embraces me, her angry shouting at Peeta all those years ago. Her hands are gentle to me, not slapping or violent like they were to my 'fake' lover.

I resent them all the same.

"Hello, Mrs. Mellerk," I reply cooly and quietly.

"I just knew you were Victor material," she looks at me with such pride and affection, I might as well have been her own, "you're a little survivor, now aren't you?"

I intake a quiet breath. Peeta was completely serious when he claimed she thought much more higher of me than she did him, and she is completely oblivious to the fact I remember how she'd shooed me away from her trashcans. She doesn't know what he did for me, but she considers me someone to forgive and bask in her praise. After the speech I just finished, though, I am not ready for any more fake pride or congratulations, sincere or not. All I want right now is to sleep, but she won't let me squirm free.

She frowns as my struggles increase, "Is everything alright, honey? Would you like some tea, maybe a cupcake?"

"Maybe later..." I manage in a cracked tone, finally managing to work my way free and retreat.

The second I enter my new 'home' I lock myself in my room, curling in the sheets. Technically, I'm supposed to do a meet-and-greet before doing a final party at the Capital, but I live her and know everybody I care to at this point.

Closing my eyes, I consider crying before falling into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

"I must admit..." Haymitch comments in an attempt to keep the mood light, "their beverages are exceptional despite their horrible personalities."

I force a chuckle out and stare straight ahead. This moment is my break from the colored Capitalites who continue to suck me deeper into the party, dancing and swooming over how 'brave' and 'gorgeous' I am. Cinna has outdone himself this evening- my red and black night gown is patterned to look just like a strong fire flickering throughout the masses that create a rainbow. I continue to smile through the lies, even being pushed into a brief dance with President Snow himself.

He smells like poisoned roses.

Mother and Prim have been invited to come to this party, but both of them are even more out of place than I am. They sit in two chairs pressed closed to himself, both of their blue eyes flickering around nervously. Mother clutches a class of wine in one hand, making my hollowed heart go out to both of them. I couldn't have looked that much different my first party- scared, unusual, and terrified of everything they feel. I make way over to them, gently touching my sister's shoulder.

"This is the hardest part," I tell them quietly, "everything goes downhill from the toasting."

"I'm scared, Katniss..." Prim whimpers out, "everybody keeps trying to dance with me and touch me."

"They're drunk," I reply simply, turning and lifting her out of her chair. She nestles close to my side instantly, hiding her face in the fabric of my dress as hot tears seep through the fabric.

"What do you suppose we do, then?" Mother asks just as quietly, "we don't belong here."

I turn to her with a cold expression. "Neither do I."

"A propose a toast!" President Snow's tone is relatively unheard, but those who heard him quiet themselves instantly. It sweeps over the crowd as they turn, lifting their drinks in the air when they say him doing the same.

Every one of them is happy. Every one of them is enjoying this Victor party. Every one of them wants to celebrate their newest toy, their newest idol until the next Games.

Every one of them is convinced they love me.

"To Katniss Everdeen!" President Snow announces, sending a roar through his Capitalities, "the Girl on Fire!"

As I promised to my family, things do begin to die down. People stumble out or fall asleep in the many rooms allotted, and I am eventually escorted out to my room for the night. For the first time all day, I have am truly alone to regret my own thoughts. The party is still quivering the floors beneath me, and I was told I am to expect a guest soon. This hardly sends fear through me; I am used to my new fate.

"Katniss Everdeen," an obviously drunk voice slurs out; It sends shivers up my spine involuntarily.

A Capitalite with flashing lights and streams all around his wardrobe stumbles in, his too-white teeth covered with a yellow film. He is another one of those who's fallen in love with me, and wants a 'lucky shot' at my body he probably won in a drawing. I don't respond, just begin unzipping my dress and letting him pin me forcefully against the mattress. What he does to me is something I have no control over- I am trapped and expected to obey his every demand. For tonight, I am his.

"Get off of her!"

It surprises both of us when my sister appears in the doorway. Her fancy, purple satin nightgown is tangled around her too-thin body, her eyes nearly buldging out of her head. I just shake my head at her, yelping slightly when he grabs my left breast. His filed nails dig into my skin as he purrs pleasurably into my ear; He is inside me, and his weight makes me incapable of moving my body. I just shake my head at her, trying to will her away so she doesn't have to see what else he has planned for his special evening. Tears pool in her eyes as he continues to thrust, his eyes full of pleasure and glazed over in his 'happy state'.

"Go...you have to get out of here..." I rasp to my sibling, "I'm...I'm so sorry."

I am suddenly back at her first Reaping, watching as she sobs. This time, it is mute, but she's frozen in place, shaking her head and pleading with me just as hard. Mother appears far long after she should have, taking in the sight before her before ushering my sister out. No regret or pain passes through her face as she sees me being abused by this strange man.

Prim was always more her daughter, anyway. She might as well have disowned me for having no remorse toward the man, but it's the most I could expect out of her to try protecting her youngest.

I am the Capital's child now.


End file.
